


Love Isn't Easy: Demonheart

by GarnetSeren



Series: Love Isn't Easy - Otome Collection [15]
Category: Demonheart (Visual Novel)
Genre: Adult Themes, Adventure & Romance, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, BAMF Women, Betrayal, Dark Romance, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Forgiveness, Getting Together, Getting to Know Each Other, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Torture, Love, Partner Betrayal, Period-Typical Sexism, Rebel Bright - Freeform, Rescue, Sacrifice, Slow Romance, Tragic Romance, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings, Understanding, do not copy to another site
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:26:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 13,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25097590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GarnetSeren/pseuds/GarnetSeren
Summary: This is a collection of Demonheart one-shots, the summary for each 'chapter' can be found at the start of each page.01. Scar Tissue (Brash/Bright)02. Little Touch (Brash/Bright)03. Changes (Brash/Bright)04. In the End (Brash/Bright)05. Obsession (Bright/Raze)06. Poison (Bright/Raze)07. Not Over (Brash/Bright)08. Good Intensions (Brash/Bright)09. Love Hurts (Bright/Raze)
Relationships: Bright/Raze (Demonheart), Sir Brash/Bright (Demonheart)
Series: Love Isn't Easy - Otome Collection [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1636357
Kudos: 34





	1. Scar Tissue (Brash/Bright)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The smirk that curled Brash's lips barely held back his wicked chuckle. Oh how he wished things were different. He loved finding out the little kitty had claws, loved how she batted away his bait whenever he tried to rile her up, in ways he never expected. He bet she'd give Rose a run for her money with the mouth on her, and whilst Brash wasn't a gentleman by any stretch of the imagination, he'd always appreciated a strong willed woman who could hold her own. The little kitty wouldn't be cowed and regardless of their positions, Brash couldn't help respecting that; but it didn't change the fact he had orders to follow, no matter how much he was beginning to resent them.

Crouching down so his face was hidden in the shadows, he looked at her through the cell's barred door. Those fools were beyond incompetent to believe this slender girl had butchered their witch. She couldn't be more than eighteen, short and slight with the rags they'd given her dwarfing her body, hiding any hint of her figure from his view. Though even in the dim flickering candlelight and despite the dirt and grim that covered her, Brash could tell the little kitten was pretty. Perhaps even beautiful, given her flaming hair and amber eyes. What a shame it was that they'd locked her away, what a shame they'd made her their sacrificial lamb. Honestly, he wasn't exactly sure why he'd gone to see her after receiving his orders; he almost wished he hadn't, since the moment she opened her mouth, the girl proved that her hair wasn't the only thing fiery about her. Because gods! She had a mouth on her. Not insolent or rude, but certainly headstrong and defiant. Brash couldn't help smirking at the discovery. Despite having risen from the dead, despite what they'd put her through, the little kitty had a spark about her. She wouldn't be cowed and regardless of their positions, he couldn't help respecting that; but it didn't change the fact he had orders to follow.

Seeing her again a few days later, kitted out in Rose's old guild armour, let Brash know he'd been pleasantly wrong about her figure. Sure, the kitten was still slender from the months of being starved, but she still had her curves, and now she was scrubbed clean of the dirt and dried blood, her beauty was obvious. Her amber eyes were captivating when she met his mismatched gaze without hesitation, and her fiery hair had Brash itching to bury his fingers in it. He wanted to ravish her, but that was just asking for trouble. So he tried to rile her up, bringing up her piss poor excuse of an ex-fiance and the bastard's new wench, but even though the little kitty's amber eyes grew dark for a moment as she practically spat her distaste for them, she merely rolled them and snorted when he brazenly asked if she'd even bedded the loser. And oh, was he intrigued by the way she didn't shy away from his lecherous gaze, when he'd made a show of it to piss off her spineless ex; not to mention her wickedly sharp tongue when addressing the bastard.

“Don't act like you can speak for me, scum,” she spat, her full lips curling in obvious distaste.

Brash couldn't help smirking at that, and grabbed her around the waist to tug her close... not actually meaning to make her yelp at the force, but he wasn't the type of man to apologise. Instead he made a show of holding her against his body to help her piss off her ex, though he eased his grip so the girl might understand he was doing this for her benefit as much as his own; since he was itching to put the jumped up pissant in his place, and a woman like the kitten deserved to get a little revenge... no matter what the higher ups had doomed her too. The fact she used his loosened grip to press herself closer, blatantly making a show of ignoring her ex in favour of draping her arms around his broad shoulders, had Brash burying his face against her neck in order to hide the slither of remorse he felt, in case it reflected in his mismatched eyes. Not for their show, but because the little kitty would have been so much fun to get to know. Brash bet she would be wild in bed after a little coaxing, not to mention that he would have enjoyed watching her put that clever mouth of hers to good use, and not just in the sexual sense. He bet she'd give Rose a run for her money with the mouth on her, and whilst Brash wasn't a gentleman by any stretch of the imagination, he'd always appreciated a strong willed woman who could hold her own... shame her spineless excuse of an ex was trying to act all chivalrous, now that he'd already let her be beheaded for a crime you'd have to be an imbecile to believe she committed.

“You think I enjoy this?” he snarled, stepping away from the girl to glare at her ex. “A fucking bastard Scarcewall scum, taking pleasure from dragging little girls to their death... is that what you think?”

“Cut the white knight act,” the kitten unexpectedly snapped, stepping around him to shove the pissant in the chest hard enough to make him stumble. “You don't give a shit about me, you just want to make yourself look good. So go fuck your new whore... I'd rather walk to my death beside a real man than remain near a coward like you.”

The smirk that curled Brash's lips in satisfaction as the spineless bastard stormed off barely held back his wicked chuckle, but oh how he wished things were different. He loved finding out the little kitty had claws... loved discovering the girl wasn't as useless as all the other Feline pussies were, since she started taking potshots at an archery target whilst they waited in a not quite uncomfortable silence for whatever piss poor excuses of soldiers Feline were sending on their mission. She caught him giving her a questioning look, and muttered that her father had taught her before an injury had put him out of commission. Brash recognised a forbidden topic when he heard one, so just instructed the kitten to collect her arrows once the others finally arrived; hiding his satisfaction that she wasn't the helpless girl he'd originally expected. However, Brash didn't bother to hide his smirk when the little kitten batted away his next attempt at baiting her, in ways he'd never expected her to.

“Kitty girl. Seems like we won't be getting privacy after all,” he leered suggestively, plainly within hearing of the Feline soldiers set to accompany them.

“Now that is a shame,” she purred. Fucking _purred._

Brash made a show of giving her another lecherous look, before ordering the other's to move out; though caught her arm before she walked passed. “Stay on your guard. Don't drop your bow. If we run in to trouble, stay back.”

“I didn't learn how to shoot from my father just to play a damsel in distress. I have nothing to lose from fighting,” she stated, determinedly.

“You could lose your pretty face to scars,” Brash replied, watching how her amber eyes glanced at the one that dissected his face.

“Scars don't bother me,” the kitty replied, meeting his gaze unflinchingly. “They show what you survived...” She paused, readjusting the scarf she wore to obviously hide her neck. “Even if you weren't supposed to.”


	2. Little Touch (Brash/Bright)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smirking, Brash opened his arms in clear invitation, baiting her; aware of how the two Feline soldiers watched them closely. However, he focused his mismatched eyes on the girl, certain she'd back down. After all, why would she want to hug him? But then she stepped forward unexpectedly, wrapping her arms around his waist without a hint of hesitation. Despite common sense, Brash couldn't deny it was actually nice... nice that the little kitty wasn't afraid of him just because of his reputation, even though she should be. Especially considering what he'd been ordered to do.

“I know you weren't always the sweetest girl, but to have murdered Orchid... I know you couldn't have done that,” Shitstones... Jasper... said.

Brash grit his teeth in annoyance. They'd been walking just over a hour, and the other's had been blessedly silent so far. The little kitten hadn't tried to run; in fact, she'd taken to walking surprisingly close to him. He'd given her a brief suspicious... questioning... look, but only received a shrug in reply, so he let it go. Having her close made his job easier anyway, although that meant when the soldier decided he had a sudden burning need to talk to her, Brash was forced to listen. Though when the kitten opened her clever mouth and reminded them that she still had claws, he supposed it wasn't a terrible situation to be in.

“You mean I had opinions and knew my own worth, despite how my mother tried to marry me off?” the girl replied, raising an eyebrow. “But remind me, how does refusing to put up with how Mark treated me, mean I wasn't sweet?”

Shitstones floundered, much to Brash's satisfaction.

The kitten's full lips curled in obvious annoyance. “And as for Orchid...”

“Did you snuggle her to death?” Brash interrupted, smirking at the offended look Shitstones shot him.

“Yes. Want a hug?” the girl retorted, without missing a beat.

“Sure, come here,” he drawled.

Brash opened his arms in clear invitation, aware of how the two Feline soldiers were watching them; one suspicious, one shocked. However, he focused his mismatched eyes on the girl, certain that his armour alone... not to mention his scars, black eye and cruel smirk... would put off her off. But then she stepped forward unexpectedly, wrapping her arms around his waist without a hint of hesitation. Brash couldn't actually remember the last time he'd been hugged, and although her actions caught him by surprise, he squeezed her back. Perhaps a little too hard if the quiet huff she gave was any indication, but she didn't complain or push him away, and despite knowing he shouldn't, Brash couldn't help thinking it was actually nice; nice that the little kitty wasn't afraid of him just because of his reputation... even though she should be, especially considering what he'd been ordered to do.

“You'd make a terrible killer,” he smirked, letting her go.

“Maybe I'm just trying to lower your defences,” she stated, offering him a barely there smile before she turned to Shitstones. “That's what I did to Orchid, right?”

He ordered the other's to scout ahead after that, effectively giving the little kitty a break from their hounding, without letting slip he was trying to help. Just as before, she stuck surprisingly close as they continued on, the silence only occasionally broken the few times the kitten had a question for him. She wasn't the worst travelling companion he'd ever had, which didn't say much, but made the journey more tolerable than Brash had expected; until that creepy old wreck caught up with them. He didn't trust the bastard. Didn't trust the way he looked at the kitten, studying her too closely. So when the first light of dawn broke over their camp and the old codger pulled the kitten aside, obviously thinking everyone else was still asleep, Brash took the chance to eavesdrop; though not before he covertly dropped his own brush... picked clean of any suspect hairs... into the kittens pack, since he'd seen her fighting the finger-comb the knots out of her fiery waves the night before. Despite his intimidating size, Brash could move silently if he needed to, allowing him to creep up and listened to the old bastard spout things he'd heard a thousand times before; about his scars, his eye, his reputation. As pissed of as it made him, none of it surprised him, though what he hadn't expected was the kitten's reaction.

“It's just a scar...” she dismissed. “Sir Brash actually seems kind of nice.... _deep_ down.”

Brash smirked as he listened in.

“I'm serious,” the old wreck continued, undeterred. “I've seen the way he looks at you, it's not love in his eyes.”

“I've known him less than a day, of course it isn't,” the kitten replied, unphased. “I'd be more concerned if he did... though as a rule, I don't exactly go around studying the looks in people's eyes.”

“This time I did it for you,” the old bastard replied. “It's like he hates you, because he likes you... I don't understand it myself. But you need to be careful. They say those Scarcewall knights are a vicious breed. Sir Brash has been accused of rape multiple times.”

Brash grit his teeth. He didn't hate her, he was just infuriated with himself that he found her so captivating. He couldn't risk getting close to her; he already hated what he was being forced to do. She didn't deserve it. But it wasn't that that made his clenched fist shake with rage. He wanted to punch that old wreck into a bloody mess.

“Maybe he was innocent,” the kitten stated, without hesitation. “Or maybe he isn't. Either way, I'm not going to condemn the man because of rumours.”

Despite the shocked of her defending him keeping Brash routed to the spot for a moment, he decided he'd heard enough when the old wreck started to tell her she needed to run away. He couldn't let it happen, and despite everything and the roll he was forced to play, Brash didn't want to scare the little kitty like he would if he had to run after her and drag her back. It was a shit enough situation without the bastard scheming behind his back, and he sent the old codger scurrying away, which left him alone with the kitten. Unable to help himself, Brash curled a gloved finger under her chin and tilted her head up. She met his eyes without hesitation, which pulled a smirk to his lips.

“So you think I was innocent? That just warms my heart,” Brash drawled.

“Weren't you?” she countered.

“Of course I was,” Brash replied, through gritted teeth.

He couldn't deny he'd turned a blind eye to what his fellow knights did, and sure he might have intimidate a woman or two, or fucked them knowing they were only doing it because they thought it the best way to save their hides... he wasn't a saint... but if they fought him, he never forced himself. Not because he was a good man, but why would he put in all that extra effort, when there was always some decent looking wench willing to fuck him anyway?

The kitten nodded, as if she accepted his answer. “Besides I'm hardly going to listen to rumours, especially after what they did to me.”

Brash didn't have a reply for that, so he chose to ignore it. “Are you going to run away from me?”

“No... what's the point? This is better than being locked up anyway.”

“Good kitten. Now, if only we could get these idiots to be less protective of you when I'm around...” he smirked, before sobering. “You'll get that old man killed you know? Saying shit like that about a knight of Scarcewall.”

“Why should it matter?” she asked, before unexpectedly adding: "I'm on your side anyway.”

“On my side..? Right,” he said, trying to hide his disbelief. “Still, your presence makes people talk trash about me, in their valiant attempts to 'protect' you.

“I think we both know they already talk trash about you,” she countered. “They're just using me as a convenient excuse to do it.”

Unable to help it, Brash huffed an amused breath. “Let me guess, he thinks me eye is the source of all evil?”

“No... but he isn't exactly fond of it,” the kitten replied, dryly.

Brash clenched his jaw, still furious after all these years. “Should I make fun of him for being old and useless?”

Unexpectedly, she reached up and lightly caressed along the scar that had ruined his eye with her fingertip. If it had been anyone else, Brash would have ripped their finger off, but with her... well, it felt different in ways he didn't want to examine. But it was too intimate, too exposing, too tender for him to stand, so he caught her offending hand though didn't push her away. They stayed like that for several heartbeats, regarding each other silently... warily... until she broke the stalemate when she whispered:

“For what it's worth, I think they suit you.”


	3. Changes (Brash/Bright)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brash curled a finger under her chin and gently tilted her head so he could see her still healing scar around her neck. He was going to make some stupid comment about it healing nicely, but then her amber gaze met his mismatched eyes, making Brash suddenly aware of how close they were. She offered him a small, almost bittersweet smile as they silently regarded each other, before she leant forward and pressed her plush lips to his thin ones; searing the weight of his betrayal into his memory forever.

After running for their lives through the forest, they trudged through the swamp to reach the old watch tower. Brash had been studying her as they went, noticing she hadn't recovered as quickly as he'd expected from her little running stunt. But he'd been too lost in thought, warring the same internal battle about letting the kitten run, that he hadn't noticed she'd stopped. She grunted in pain when he collided with her, but although he roughly grabbed the girl to prevent her from falling, Brash wasn't the type of man to apologise. Instead he snapped at her, wanting to get a rise out of her... prove she was doing better than she looked... but when she responded by blinking up owlishly at him, Brash knew she needed a rest. Of course he announced it in the most condescending way, he couldn't afford for anyone to figure out his growing feelings for the kitten; least of her. However, as they entered the damp tower, Brash noticed the old wreck and Shitstones were sniffing around the little kitty, so just to remind her that the others were no allies of hers, he ordered them to shoot her if she tried to escape. Not one of them tried to defend her, just as Brash knew they wouldn't, but he got no satisfaction when she wearily rolled her eyes. She deserved so much more than this, not that he could change things, considering the way his hands were tied. But he sent the others to the room on the right, whilst he cut down the cobwebs on the left so she could enter and get the rest she obviously needed. Though despite the fact he wasn't a good man, Brash did his best to ignore the fact the kitten was stripping her armour, without a care that he was in the room with her. He grit his teeth in an effort not to sigh. He wanted to ravish her, he wanted to take her home and have her whenever the mood took them. It was a fucked up mess, and the longer they travelled together, the more he wished there was a way out of this for both of them.

“All this crap because of witch's experiments. Those girl-kissing hags should be slaughtered on sight everywhere,” Brash muttered, darkly.

The kitten unexpectedly chuckled, making him drag his mismatched gaze from the dreary landscape he'd been glaring at.

“You agree?” he asked, relying on his gruff tone to hide his surprise.

“No... but all things considered, I find it funny,” she shrugged. “Maybe being beheaded for a crime I didn't commit then locked in prison and starved have messed with my sense of humour.”

Unable to help it, he eyed her suspiciously; after all, there was no logical reason he was so drawn to her. And it would be just his luck, all things considered. “Wait. You're not a witch yourself are you? How old are you? You're not some ancient crone disguising yourself as a young girl?”

“Yes, I'm ancient.” she stated deadpan, giving him a thoroughly unimpressed look. “I'm eighteen and of course I'm not a witch. I worked as Orchid's shop assistant, nothing more or less. Until she made me a Demonheart against my will."

In a moment of madness, Brash grabbed her around the waist... his gloved hand feeling the heat of her skin beneath the rough cotton of her camisole... and hauled her close. “Prove it.”

He expected the little kitty to fight him off, instead she rolled her eyes as she stated: “If you wanted a kiss, you could have just asked.”

She didn't give him time to retort; pushing up on her toes whilst her hand sunk into his blond locks and gently pulled him down to meet her half way. He went willingly, letting her manhandle him... letting himself sink into the kiss he'd been craving. He splayed his hand across her ribs, partially to see what she'd do, and partially to feel that she still had a heartbeat, since there was a chance that witch had made her more than just a Demonheart. Brash hadn't expected the kitten to move his hand up to her breast, and he was annoyed at himself for being surprised; not to mention angry at the thought that she might have let her pissant ex touch her like this.

“What are you doing? You think I'm interested in your boobs? I was just checking you had a heart,” he snarled.

She huffed a laugh, seemingly unphased by his sudden anger, as she raised an eyebrow at him. “Liar.”

“At least you're not dumb,” he smirked, before sobering. “I don't know why I'm talking to you, it won't matter once I return home. Go to sleep, I'll take watch.”

“I'd imagine to make this wretched journey more bearable. Because let's be honest, I'm here because they're hoping the witch can kill me...” the kitten stated, without a hint of humour. “They're probably hoping she'll be too distracted killing me to notice when you attack her. But sure, whatever. I'd offer to trade watch shifts with you, but those assholes that just agreed to shoot me will probably think I'd killed you. So good night, I guess.”

Brash was left to stare at her as she walked away, her arms wrapped around herself; whether to comfort herself or stave off the cold, he wasn't sure. Either way it didn't sit right with him, regardless of his mission. So as she started to settle down a pile of straw in the corner, he decided to do something about it.

“Are you cold?”

“A little,” she admitted, glancing over her shoulder at him. “You know, since I only have borrowed clothes and armour.”

Without a word Brash dug in his pack and handed her a spare shirt; it was the nicest one he had in there, possibly the only one currently without bloodstains. The black silk drowned her the minute she pulled it over her head, sending her fiery waves... that had been tamed just that morning thanks to his brush, not that she'd ever know that... in disarray. Seeing her wearing his clothes made Brash feel things he didn't want to examine, and he turned from her abruptly, before he decided to do something stupid.

“Why do you hate me?” she asked suddenly, her voice quiet; almost meek.

“I don't hate you,” he stated, shutting his mismatched and willing himself not to glance at her. “You're just a dead girl. I shouldn't be thinking about you at all.”

The kitten didn't say anything after that. In fact Brash didn't hear another sound out of her all night, and he actually went to irrationally check she was still breathing at one point. The girl didn't stir until the early hours of the morning, when she started to toss and turn on the pile of hey. Her brow was furrowed as if she was in pain, and although what she was mumbling wasn't clear, Brash caught snippets of her muttering about needing to save a child several times. He grit his teeth. With everything else stacked against her, did she really need nightmares on top of it? Despite knowing he should be keeping his distance, Brash couldn't let the kitten suffer alone and tried to wake her, though barely managing to sit back in time to avoid being headbutted when she suddenly jerked awake; her chest heaving and her amber eyes almost wild as she stared at him.

“You were talking in your sleep,” he explained, suddenly aware of how him hovering over her might seem.

“Just nightmares,” she muttered, scrubbing a hand over her face.

“One has to wonder where you'd got the notion of a child needing you, when by all accounts you were a nice girl who never got into trouble,” he probed, actually trying to be gentle.

“Keep wondering,” she spat, before sighing dejectedly. “It doesn't matter. There might have been a child, but everything I love has been taken away from me... any choice I had in the matter was taken away from me.”

Unable to help it, Brash took her small hands in his much larger ones, though he couldn't meet her amber eyes. “There's nothing I can do about that.”

“I know,” she replied quietly, before tilting her head and obviously noticing that he'd rifled through her stuff.

“I had a search whilst you were asleep,” he stated, feeling the sudden urge to defend his actions. “Needed to make sure you weren't writing letters to your idiot boyfriend.”

Her lip curled into a sneer. “Can you not? I almost regret not poisoning the bastard. We were engaged because I was... _encouraged_ to accept. I can't stand the thought of him, so could you not?

Brash grunted his agreement, taken aback, and floundered with the unexpected urge to change the topic for her. “I.... watched you as you slept.”

“And?” she asked, totally non-plussed. “Am I supposed to be surprised? Intimidated? In the past three days you've let me eat, you've let me wash, you've let me rest. So you went through my stuff, probably read my journal and then watched me sleep. You ordered people to shoot me yesterday...”

He almost blurted out he couldn't read, in the hopes to reassure the kitten about her diary, though caught himself at the last moment. He didn't want to leave himself vulnerable, or give her ideas. Instead, with her statement hanging in the air between them, Brash curled a finger under her chin and gently tilted her head so he could see her still healing scar around her neck. He was going to make some stupid comment about it healing nicely, but then her amber gaze met his mismatched eyes, making Brash suddenly aware of how close they were. Almost as if he was pulled by an invisible force, he couldn't help slowly... gently... sliding a hand into her fiery waves. He wished he'd thought to remove his gloves so he could feel her hair wrapped around his fingers, but then the kitty was offering him a small, almost bittersweet smile as she leant forward before she pressed her plush lips to his thin ones. Brash barely restrained himself, barely remember to brace his weight on his knees as he pushed her back into the hay with the force of his returning kiss; not wanting to hurt her with the bulk of his armour on top of his muscles. She was addictive, he could get lost in her; he knew he was treading dangerous water. So with more effort than he cared to admit, Brash dragged himself away from her luscious mouth, trailing kisses along her jaw and down her throat, until he reached the decapitation scar that marred her pale flesh. Brash kissed the raised skin once, an apology... because she'd suffered, because he hadn't known her, because of his part in all this, because he couldn't help her... though she'd never know it. Tearing himself away from her was one of the hardest things he'd ever.

“Are you alright?” she asked, sitting up as well.

“I'm not supposed to be doing that with you. Damn! Did you fuck me up.”

Nothing more was said between them as they continued their journey with the others; his mind dwelling on her more than it should, to the point they ended walking in circles for a time. Until Brash heard Bright yell suddenly. He'd been too engrossed shouting at Shitstones and the archer for their incompetence to realise the kitten and the old wreck were lagging behind, and her scream sent an ice cold wave of dread through Brash's gut. He ploughed back through the swamp, desperate to find her... he'd never trusted that old shit... and was only somewhat relieved when he found them both still together. The old man's nose was clearly broken, and there was blood on the knuckles of her hand that was now reaching for her dagger, urging Brash to draw his own sword as he closed the distance between them.

“Bright! Why did you scream?” he asked urgently, saying her name without thinking.

“Sir... she's having minor feelings of crisis. Said she couldn't walk any more,” the old wreck babbled.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, idiot? I asked Bright, not you,” Brash snarled.

“He grabbed my arm and it hurt,” she replied, refusing to meet his eyes for the first time.

Without knowing how, Brash knew there was more to it than that. For the first time since they'd met, she seemed scared. Bright was never scared. Even in prison she'd been defiant. But from the way her amber eyes quickly darted to him before breaking away again, Brash got the distinct impression it wasn't _him_ she was scared of. The old man had done something; something more than just grabbing her against her will, something she knew would make him furious. Brash nearly growled in frustration. Even when someone hurt her, she tried to protect them... and those piss poor Feline pussies thought she was a murderer. Assholes. Bright didn't deserve to be messed up in any of this shit, and Brash was starting to chaff under the weight of his orders. But whilst his hands were tied in her fate, he could do something to help her _now._ No effort when into cleaving the old wreck in two, though it took everything Brash had to resist pulling her into his arms when he noticed unshed tears in her amber eyes as she turned away from the sight.

“Give me your hand.”

It came out as an order in his attempt not to let his feelings... his worry and relief... show, but Brash couldn't help running his thumb gently across her bruised knuckles, when Bright placed her bloodied hand in his without hesitation. If the others dared ask, he'd state it was to help her through the swamp because she was being too slow and it was pissing him off, though Brash hoped she would understand the gesture for what it was; the only form of comfort he could risk showing.


	4. In the End (Brash/Bright)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brash was furious. She didn't say anything, didn't shove him away. She just continued to stare at him with betrayal in her eyes. It infuriated him. She had more fire than this. She was a kitten with claws. She had a sharp tongue, she could defend herself. He wanted her to react, needed her to react... needed to know he wasn't the reason her fire had burnt out. He didn't want the softening look in her eyes as he crumbled, he didn't deserve her pity, her understanding. He was a bad man, he was the reason she was going to die. She should hate him... it would hurt less if she hated him.

The weeks they'd spent trudging through the forests and swamps were starting to grate on Brash, each step was another one closer to doing something he knew he'd regret for the rest of his life, but he had no choice. His hands were tied, he had his orders, he couldn't go against them, no matter how much he wanted to. The weight of it had made him more irritable than usual, but shockingly, Bright didn't seem to hold all the times he snapped at her against him. They hadn't really talked much since he'd slain the old wreck, but Brash caught her looking at him when they were huddled around a campfire at night. Her amber eyes would shine like topaz, her gaze rooting him to the spot; a look that silently said she knew he was leading her to her death, but that she forgave him. Brash knew he didn't deserve to be on the receiving end of such a look, he didn't deserve Bright's absolution for how he was going to betray her, but that didn't stop his gaze wandering to her all the gods-damned time. Funnily enough, the weather changed as his mood worsened, and by the time they reached the edge of their destination, it had started to pour. Though of course, regardless of the deluge... regardless of the fact Brash had been trying to save their conscious the entire forsaken mission... that was when the Feline pussies decided to grow a backbone, even though he was trying to give them a final chance to leave.

“We can't split up, this is an allied mission,” Shitstones argued, squaring up to him.

“You're not counting _her_?” Brash smirked, nodding towards Bright. “She's just part of my equipment, right? My bed warmer.”

“Fuck off, Brash,” she said, her tone annoyed but without venom as she crossed her arms.

“No! Of course not! What I mean was we won't leave Bright with you,” Shitstones grit out.

“We _could_ you know...” the archer hissed.

Out of the corner of his black eye, Brash caught Bright looking skyward. Her look seemed to scream 'Gods! Why?', and honestly, he couldn't blame her. This was fucking ridiculous. All this posturing, pretending they cared. Fuck! He _did_ care, and he was still leading her to her demise. The pissants who'd so valiantly tried to 'defend' her from him didn't give a shit, they just wanted to make themselves feel better. Her limp dick ex, the bastard's other woman, the creepy old wreck, and now this oh so chivalrous pussy.

“He says he doesn't need us, but he does need Bright. This mission is too dangerous, I'm coming along to protect her,” Shitstones continued, angrily.

“Protect me? What the hell?” Bright spat, her full lips curling in an annoyed snarl.

“You're such a little pest,” Brash goaded the asshole. “You want to be there to make sure I don't bend the little kitten over a stump, huh?”

Shitstones actually had the balls to lunge forward to punch him, but the archer was the brains of the pair and held his fellow soldier back.

“I'll remember that,” he vowed, ominously.

“So will I,” Shitstones grit out, straining against his friend.

“Stop it, both of you!” Bright suddenly snapped. “Jasper, I don't need anyone to defend my honour. What I needed was someone to defend me when I was accused and convicted of a murder I didn't commit. And _you_...” She turned her amber gaze on Brash, glaring. “Stop saying shit to wind him up. This mission is bad enough as it is.”

“You shouldn't have to be out here,” Shitstones stated, shaking the archer off and daring to reach for Bright.

“Jasper, you're a honourable soldier but you need to face facts, I'm on this mission because they want me dead,” she stated wearily, side stepping the asshole's attempt to comfort her. “And Tunes, I think it'd be pretty smart if you did leave... consider this as me not killing you.”

The archer's lip quirked in that unsettling smile of his... obvious understanding some sort of inside joke that neither Brash nor Shitstones were aware of... before he backed away, leaving the three of them to continue on in silence, until they came to the ruins. Brash hesitated at the entrance, warring with himself. He wanted to tell Bright to run. He wanted to run with her. But he couldn't. If he let her escape, he'd be signing both their death warrants. Still, he fought an internal battle as they traipsed through the ruin, getting more and more on edge the further they went... and the more Shitstone talked to her. But Brash only snapped when the bastard confessed his feelings for her; not that they were a surprise by any means, but the fact the moron was stupid enough to say it in front of him, when he was already battling with himself, was enough to push Brash over the edge. The pissant fawning over her is what had made him slip before they'd entered the ruins, when he'd been the one to out her little secret. Bright had looked so betrayed when the truth had left his lips, that Brash couldn't help feeling guilty. It settled like a lead weight in his gut, and he knew it was only going to get worse. Unfortunately her Demonheart status didn't seem to put the Feline pussy off, and Brash's fowl mood wasn't helped by the fact that Bright was just too damn nice for her own good. Instead of putting the asshole out of his misery, she tried to deflect his advances; told him it wasn't the time or place to discuss it, that they had to focus on the mission. But then Brash began to wonder, was the little kitty really being nice? Or was she manipulating the poor moron? Was she stringing him along for her own enjoyment? Was she doing it to torment him, just like that whore who'd ruined his life and started him down this path? Was she toying with them both? The thoughts whirled around his head, and since he'd already been having an eternal battle with himself over her fate, Brash finally snapped. He grabbed Shitstones around the neck, his superior strength making it easy to snap the asshole's spine in one smooth move.

“How stupid can a fucking fool be? Confessing his love for you in the middle of Rivera's dungeon.... in front of me,” he snarled, letting the body drop to the floor before rounding on Bright.

“But why kill him?” she asked, regarding him with caution for the first time. “He never said he loved me, and you know _you_ were the one I wanted.”

She stated it like it was such an obvious fact, that any argument Brash had died on his tongue. She was so unapologetic about it too, like she didn't give a damn what anyone else thought about it. He admired that. He admired so much about her. Not that it matter. Not with what he had to do. Regardless of how much he wished it was different. So instead of risking blurting out how he really felt about all of it, Brash chose to fill in some details Bright didn't know about the situation; despite having guessed she wasn't expected to come out of this alive.

“Why are you telling me this?” she demanded, understandably irked.

“I don't know. I don't know why I ever spoke to you, instead of bringing you in a sack like I was supposed to.” Brash admitted, equally frustrated. “Rivera gave your lord a good deal. Hand _you_ over, and no one else got hurt.”

That look of betrayal was back in her amber eyes, and without thinking, Brash grabbed both her hands as he forced himself to meet her gaze. “I'm so sorry, kitten. Sweetie. It's a shitty task they're forcing me to do.”

Bright didn't say anything, didn't shove him away. She just continued to stare at him. It infuriated him. She had more fire than this. She was a kitten with claws. She had a sharp tongue, she could defend herself. She should be fighting him, calling him every name under the sun. She should be cursing him, she should be spitting that she hated him, that she regretted what they'd shared in the tower. But she didn't. She just looked at him with betrayal in her amber eyes. Brash wanted her to react, _needed_ her to react. So he pushed her against the stone coffin in the centre of the room, loomed over her, tried to get Bright to do anything other than stare at him with her big amber eyes that pierced him to the core.

“You'll be mine if it's the last thing you do!” he shouted, baiting her.

“Why now? You pulled away from me in the tower...” she said, too calmly. “We both know nothing has change... I always knew you were leading me to my death.”

“Shut up! Or at least say you hate me!” Brash growled.

He was furious. Why wasn't she fighting? Why wasn't she spitting barbs? He wanted her to react, _needed_ her to react... needed to know he wasn't the reason her fire had burnt out. So he pinned her hands to the stone behind her, roughly pressed his body to hers; waiting for Bright to knee him in the balls, or headbutt him. Waiting for her to fighting him. But she didn't. The betrayal was still there in her eyes, but it was more than that, she looked so weary. She looked done. And when Brash realised she wasn't going to fight him, he understood with sickening clarity that he really had been the one to snuff out her fire. He loosened his grip and helped her to sit down on the stone steps that surrounded the coffin before kneeling... supplicating... at her feet. He removed a glove and in the expectant silence that had surrounded them, he reached to gently card his fingers through her silky red hair; shocked and awed she was still letting him touch her, despite everything he'd done. She shut her eyes, a single tear soundlessly rolling down her cheek.

“You were such a perfect kitten for me,” he murmured, his voice rough with unspoken emotion. “So young and innocent... I've always wanted a good girl. I would have taken you to Scarcewall with me, no one would have been able to hurt you again. If only you weren't a Demonheart...”

She huffed a watery laugh. “I didn't exactly have a choice.”

Without thinking, he leant forward and rested his forehead against hers. “If only it didn't have to end this way...”

“It doesn't,” she stated, a hint of her defiance finally flickering back to life as she looked at him. “Help me. Or at least let me escape.”

“There's no point, sweetheart. Everyone wants you dead, it's only a matter of who kills you first,” Brash admitted, honestly.

“You too?”

“No. But my hands are tied. It's your life or mine. Damn... after all the crap I've done, I can't bare to be responsible for this. But it's too late,” he explained, hoping she at least knew how sorry he was. “If Rivera lifts a finger, I'm dead. I can't do anything to her. My mission was to deliver you into her hands.

“So you'll give up? Just like that?” Bright asked, her voice more sad than accusatory.

“You don't know what happened! I've already tried!” he growl; equally angry at himself and their entire situation. “The wench is blackmailing me with my life. She did something to me... and now she _owns_ me!”

To his dismay, instead of being angry, Bright looked at him with her amber eyes so full of pity and understanding that it physically hurt to meet her gaze. He didn't deserve what she was giving him. He didn't deserve her forgiveness, her absolution. He was a bad man, he was the reason she was going to die. She should hate him... it would hurt less if she hated him.

“I understand,” Bright whispered, taking one of his large hands in both her dainty ones. “For what it's worth, I hope you're free of her one day.”


	5. Obsession (Bright/Raze)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He knew he didn't deserve her, she was never meant to be his. But he couldn't let her go. He couldn't lose her. He needed her, wanted her. She belong with him. She'd probably hate him for what he had planned, but soon she wouldn't be able to leave him. No matter what she discovered. Soon she would truly be his.

Despite all the times they'd spoke via the enchanted pendants, he still wasn't sure what to make of the Demonheart. She was just so _good_... so sickeningly sweet and nice, despite what had happened to her, despite what they were doing to her. He didn't understand it. However, she was also the only person who hadn't had even a shred of animosity towards him in his life, even though he was the reason she'd been accused of murder and decapitated. Of course she hadn't forgiven him outright for that, but she'd been upfront and honest about needing time to process it, which he could respect. She wasn't blindly trusting him, or any of them. She was smart. So he remained hopeful he could sway her to his way of thinking. It had been a fruitless task thus far, but she never got angry with him. She never held their differing opinions against him, never treated him with anything but respected; other than a suspicious bit of fondness that he couldn't figure out. In turn, he unexpectedly found himself growing attached of her.

Originally, he'd only been interested in how useful she would be to him, determined to corrupt her until their ideals aligned. But as time went on, he slowly began to realise that despite her annoying goodness, he liked her. He liked that she always seemed willing to talk to him, liked that she asked about his well-being, liked that she seemed to care if he was safe, liked that she called him 'dear'. He even began to like their differing opinions. It was intriguing, discussing their views without it devolving into a fight. He also couldn't ignore the surge of affection that transferred through their link whenever he said something to try and push her, but all he got back was the impression she was rolling her eyes. “You and your insistence on murder” had become a familiar phrase to him, but she always said it with a sense of fond exasperation that he couldn't understand; although it made it perfectly clear why Orchid had chosen her to become the eternal guide for her son. She was unlike any one else he'd ever met. He was drawn to her. And as time went on, he found himself bending the truth instead of outright lying to her. He didn't want to disappoint her, didn't want the fondness she regarded him with to change. But he knew if she found out the truth she'd leave. Abandon him. He couldn't allow that. He needed a way to make sure she remained his forever. Of course he knew about the barbarian. He couldn't understand it. He knew she knew the brute was leading her to her supposed death, but he felt the same fondness she directed at him whenever he spied her with the barbarian. It infuriated him. She was his, and he would have whisked her away, if it hadn't been for the witch the brute was delivering her too. He'd spied on the bitch, had learn her plans, had figured a way to twist it to suit his own needs. She'd probably hate him for it, but once her heart was his, she wouldn't be able to leave him. No matter what she discovered.

However, he hadn't realised how fragile she was. He hadn't realised the toll the torture would take on her. Hadn't realised how battered and bruised and bloody she'd be. He grit his teeth and clenched his clawed fists at the sight of her, her beauty and strength hidden by the multitude of injuries she'd endured. He was furious. Furious at the witches for what they'd done... furious at himself for letting it happen... furious at her for making him care. Even if having her Demonheart removed was part of his plan, he didn't think he'd find her so injured, didn't think she'd be such a shadow of her former self. He didn't expect to feel remorse, and he angrily pushed the feeling aside when she finally lifted her head and looked at him.

“Raze...?” she whispered.

“You've seen me in your dreams,” he smirked. “It's good to finally meet you.”

A single tear rolled down her battered face in response. He didn't like it. She wasn't vulnerable. She was sharp and quick witted. She was as sarcastic as he was, even if she was infuriatingly good. She was tougher than she looked, he knew she was tougher than this... he just needed to remind her. He needed to rile her up, needed to see the spark he was so used to feeling from her.

“I would make a joke about the way your are... displayed here... but I somehow doubt you are in the mood,” he goaded, giving her his most infuriating smirk.

“Have you come to ravish me?”

It was said so weakly... of course it was, since it seemed she barely had the strength to lift her head to look at him... that he knew she was only saying it for his benefit. She was trying, for him. He hated it, yet relished it at the same time. He took comfort that even now, she cared enough about him to try; even if at the back of his mind, a small voice reminded him this was his fault, and he didn't deserve her effort. But he pushed the voice... his conscious... aside in favour of cupping her battered face, mindful of his claws.

“You used to have spirit... how come you are so tame and helpless now?” he asked, not really expecting an answer.

“Needed to keep you safe,” she murmured. “The torture... they tried... but I didn't tell them... you're safe, right?”

His tail swished angrily. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. He hadn't meant for her to suffer like this... hadn't meant to be in her debt. He couldn't stand her like this. Where was the clever mouth and sharp tongue? He needed to see that spark in her. Needed to see the fire in her amber eyes. So he ignored her question and attempted to goad a proper reaction out of her.

“Oh, I forgot you depend on my mercy... what shall we do about that?” he smirked, letting go of her face.

She sighed, wearily. “What do you want?”

“What are you offering?” he asked, suggestively.

Her amber eyes met his icy gaze for the first time. She looked so startlingly tired. “Look at me... what can I offer you? I barely feel strength enough to speak.”

He shifted from hoof to hoof, the feeling of discomfort slowly morphing into what felt suspiciously like regret. “Well, enough of my questions. We both know I came to rescue you. Why else would I be here?”

“I don't know, why would you?” she mumbled, weakly.

“I came because I am such a good ally.”

Another tear rolled down her cheek, as if she knew he was lying. He grit his teeth. This wasn't supposed to be how it went. They were supposed to be bantering, flirting, challenging each other like they usually did. She wasn't supposed to be so defeated. He hated this subdued version of her. He needed her to have that spark back.

“You are intelligent, if weak. Intelligent enough to understand respecting me could save you from a premature and permanent death,” he snapped.

“Do you not think I'd welcome death?” she murmured, sagging against her bonds.

Her admission sent a cold shiver down his spine. “I would miss your beautiful, soothing voice if something were to happen to you.”

The feeling of vulnerability was uncomfortable, so to distract her from asking any questions, he wasted no more time in using his claws to slice her bindings. She fell into his arms, her legs too weak to support her and despite his demonic appearance she leant into him, undeterred by his warning about his adornments... namely how pointed his horns and claws were. Unable to help it, he wrapped his arms around her, relishing the feel of her naked skin against his bare torso as she returned his embrace.

“How exquisite, your skin... now I know there is something better than merely watching you,” he murmured.

“You're... stunning,” she whispered, almost deliriously.

“Thank you... dear,” he replied, cautious of the unexpected compliment.

She swayed on her feet, shifting against him, brushing a certain part of of him in a way he couldn't ignore. He was shocked... and unsure. He grabbed hold of her shoulders, mindful of his claws, and forced her to take a step away from him.

“Bright. Stop. We are in the witch's dungeon. Your life is at stake,” he stated, urgently. Willing her to listen.

She blinked up at him in obvious confusion. “What...? I didn't do anything.”

He studied her for a moment, quickly realising she was telling the truth. He felt partially relieved yet partially dejected by the revelation. “Oh, I see. You... touched me by accident. Either way, we have no time to waste.”

As he released the steadying hold he had on her, intending to start leading her through the lair... whilst stopping at a few important locations along the way... she gently caught his wrist; her small hand curling around him just above the manacle he'd never managed to remove, directly over the scars from his earliest years of torture. He grit his teeth, barely resisting the urge to shove her away, even though he was almost certain she wouldn't hurt him. Especially considering who she thought he was.

“Raze...” she murmured, weakly. “I'm sorry. Whatever I did, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable.”

Unable to help it, he regarded her in shocked silence for several heartbeats. He knew they were wasting time, but no one had ever cared about him and his comfort before. She was the only one who'd ever made him feel wanted. It still caught him off guard, and seeing the look of concern in her amber eyes for the first time was nearly his undoing. He knew he didn't deserve her, she was never meant to be his. But he couldn't let her go. He couldn't lose her. He needed her, wanted her. She was his. It's why he'd formed the plan he had, to ensure she never left him. However, he couldn't let her know the thoughts that whirled in his mind. He couldn't let her know the unexpected depths of his feelings for her. So instead he just nodded, before gently pushing some of her fiery waves behind her ear.

“I know.”


	6. Poison (Bright/Raze)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He knew all about the barbarian. He couldn't understand why she let the brute touch her, he couldn't understand why she cared for him. She should have hated him, yet she didn't. Would she be as understanding when she found out his plans? He doubted it. So he led her to where the barbarian was imprisoned, and set about turning her against the brute who'd been trying to steal her away from him.

He knew all about the barbarian. He'd watched and listened through their amulets, felt her emotions through the link; he'd even spied on them in person a few times, not that she'd ever know. He couldn't understand why she let the brute touch her, he couldn't understand why she cared for him. Even when the barbarian betrayed her, he hadn't felt any negative emotion other than sadness filter through their link. She should have hated him, yet she didn't. Would she be as understanding when she found out _his_ plans? He doubted it. Though he also doubted that there wasn't at least a small part of her baying for the barbarian's blood, festering in the ignored desire for revenge. He intended to give it to her. She might not be able to kill the brute, but it would serve his purpose. The barbarian couldn't be killed, but her attempt would have the brute turning on her once and for all... all he needed to do was rile her up and present her with the opportunity for a little revenge. So he led her to the torture chamber where the barbarian was imprisoned in, and set about turning her against the brute who'd been trying to steal her away from him.

“Such strong emotions...” he whispered in her ear. “What has this man done to you?”

She shook her head as she hugged herself. “Nothing. But it pains me to see him here.”

“He did mistreat you, I'm sure,” he suggested.

“No, he didn't,” she murmured. “He'd given up. He saw no way out... you didn't see him in the ruins.”

“Don't be a weakling,” he snapped, furious she was defending the barbarian. “This man is your enemy. He is another Demonheart who would hunt you down for himself, if he were not the witch's servant. Have your revenge! Cut out his heart!”

“No!” she stated, adamantly. “I want to help him.”

He snarled, his claws flexing with the urge to grab and shake her. “ _Help_ the creature? What a ridiculous idea. This is... what you call a... joke, isn't it? Isn't it, precious?”

She glared at him, letting him feel the first stirrings of anger through their link. “Don't call me that... and he's not a creature.”

“Do you feel compassion for the _creature_?” he taunted, through gritted teeth. “Getting sentimental over your enemy's tortured body is the pinnacle of stupidity. Why refuse this power within your very grasp?”

“He's not my enemy,” she insisted, her anger rapidly cooling through their link. “And you have to respect that I'm not going to murder someone just to please you, especially when that person is just as important to me as you are.”

“In that case, do you mind if I stand back and watch you attempt to move his worthless carcass to safety?” he snarled. “It will be quite the show...”

“Do what you want,” she spat, before walking away from him. “But I'm not leaving until I've at least done _something_ to help him.”

Crossing his arms, he glared at her back as she crouched down beside the barbarian. Even if she'd just outright admitted she cared for _him_ , he was forced to share her affection with the brute; he hated it. He clenched his jaw as he watched the careful way she removed the tubes from the brute's body, irked that regardless of her words, she'd chosen the barbarian over him. It gnawed at him. Strengthened his resolve that he was justified with his plan. He chuckled darkly as he watched the futile effort she put in to trying to move the hulking brute... wanting to rile her up, wanting to rip her attention away from the bastard. But she never once turned his way. Even when she finally gave up her hopeless attempt, she knelt beside the barbarian and tenderly stroked his matted blond hair out of his scarred face. It made him sick. The brute did not deserve the care and attention she gave him. He flexed his hands, his claws digging into his own biceps and his lips curling into a snarl, as she pressed a kiss to the barbarian's forehead before they finally left the cell.

“You missed out on an important lesson,” he snapped, as they walked away.

“No I didn't,” she replied wearily, all traces of anger replaced with a melancholy that filtered through their link. “You're the one missing out, Raze... I just hope one day you'll realise caring about others isn't a weakness.”


	7. Not Over (Brash/Bright)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To Brash's surprise, Bright immediately leapt forward without hesitation... her speed making her a blur of movement... though despite his growling threat, she wasn't aiming for him. She was attacking the hag who'd tortured them both; whether it was because she believed he wouldn't really betray her again, or if she simply couldn't bring herself to hurt him, Brash didn't know. All he knew as he step behind the crone, was that he'd do anything to make sure Bright survived.

She'd defended him 'til the end. Even after he'd told her the truth, even when he'd walked her to her doom, even after Rivera had captured her, Bright had defended him. She refused to do anything other than glare when the witch spoke to her, but she had spit barbs whenever the hag had insulted him. It made it abundantly clear how unworthy he'd always been of her. It made it abundantly clear he should have let her escape. Brash was ashamed of himself. He should have fought one last time, should have defended her as recklessly as she defended him. But now she was dead. He'd killed her. He might not have done the deed, he might have only been following orders, but he was the one who'd brought her to the hag. It was his fault. He deserved everything that had happened to him since, he knew he did. Only instinct had made him fight what Rivera did to him, because his mind had been too busy replaying his startling realisation over and over, ever since he watched them string Bright up on that cross... he _loved_ her. He'd given up fighting around the fifteenth time the old hag had stabbed him. There was no point living in a world without Bright; shame the witch hadn't eat his heart yet and put him out of his misery.

He couldn't move, laying on the blood stained floor hooked up to the hag's latest contraption. The choking fog incapacitated him, the poison being pumped into his body drained him until it killed him time and time again. He couldn't do anything. He could barely blink. But he was still aware. He could feel his abused body trembling as his organs gave out yet again. He could hear when the door to his cell was opened and two distinctly different sets of footsteps entertained the room. He could hear when two people started talking, though nothing they said was clear. It felt like sounds were reaching him under water. He was only vaguely aware of cool hands on his overheated flesh, and he mentally braced himself for what was about to come... it took him longer than it should to realise the touch was soft, soothing almost. Though the gentle sensation gradually became more and more apparent as the small hands carefully pulled the needles from his body. Brash tried to focus his blurry eyes on the shadow that kept passing in and out of his field of vision, briefly catching a hint of fiery red hair, before he felt someone weakly try to push and pull his dead weight. He thought it was just wishful thinking, or a hallucination from his dying brain, until he felt plush lips press against his forehead. It took all the effort Brash could muster just to focus his gaze on the familiar yet bruised face when it swam into view, though it took the look of concern in her amber eyes, as her trembling hand feebly moved his matted hair out of his face, for Brash to believe it was really her.

“I'm sorry, I'm so sorry...” Bright whispered, her voice weak. “I tried, but I can't move you. You're too heavy... I'm so sorry, Brash. I hope... I hope you recover enough to escape from here. I'm sorry I can't do more.”

Brash wished he had the energy to reach for her, or at least to be able to tell her it was okay. That she'd done enough... more than enough. More than anyone else had ever done for him before. He wished he could tell her he was just glad she was alive, wished he could tell her to just run and never look back. But he couldn't. He couldn't even quirk his lips into some semblance of a smile to let her know he'd heard her. However, he forced his eyes to focus on her fiery hair as she retreated; hoping that whoever was with her could at least keep her safe... that they wouldn't betray her. As for himself, Brash lay on the cold damp floor as his body slowly regenerated. He wasn't sure if he'd ever feel the same after the shit the hag had pumped into him, though he was certainly glad when he could finally push himself upright. Though naturally, that was the exact moment Rivera came screeching through the door of his cell, yelling something about her apprentice betraying her. Brash's movements were too slow and sluggish for him to avoid the spell she hurled at him, though he grit his teeth to avoid giving her the satisfaction of crying out in pain, when searing agony surged through his body. The hag attacked him several more times, leaving him panting for breath on the floor before she demanded that he help track down Bright and her apprentice. There wasn't much Brash could do but give his token agreement, though he figured Rivera was more deranged than he'd ever suspected if she truly believed he'd betray Bright a second time.

His armour felt heavier than it ever had before as he suited up, and Brash had to clench his jaw at the weight of his sword as he strapped it in place. It was more than obvious that it would take far longer than usual to recover from whatever the hag had done to him; he just hoped he'd have healed enough to aid Bright when they finally caught up to her. He hadn't expected Rivera to drag him through a portal to Inferno, though he barely listened to the 'conversation' that unfurled around him, as his attention immediately locked on familiar amber eyes and the mix of emotions he saw in them. However, Brash caught enough to hear when the apprentice refused to turn on Bright... he just hoped the kitten would forgive him for the ruse he was about to pull.

“Let me do it,” he snarled, hardening his gaze as he regarded his fellow Demonheart.

Bright clenched her jaw, her hand slowly reaching for the dagger that Rose had given her, though never said a word... never took her amber eyes off him, even when Rivera stated:

“Of course you can do it, I never doubted you in this regard.”

To Brash's surprise, the redhead immediately leapt forward... her speed making her a blur of movement... though he knew she wasn't aiming for him. Bright was attacking the hag; whether it was because she believed he wouldn't betray her again, or if she simply couldn't bring herself to hurt him, Brash didn't know. All that was certain was that Bright's attack meant Rivera was distracted enough that he could step behind the hag. He was honestly surprised the little kitten had the sense to aim for the witch's heart instead of merely wounding her, though in case the crone had any tricks up her sleeve, Brash cleaving the bitch in two just to be sure.

“She's dead. Finally...” he murmured, as the watched the body slump to the floor.

“Brash! _You swine_!” Bright yelled, as she unexpectedly grabbed the chain that held his cloak in place and yanked him closer to her height.

Her actions startled a chuckle out of him, and he couldn't help smirking as he wrapped an arm around her too slender waist. “Yeah... when we're out of hell, you can kiss me all over to prove just how much you hate me.”

“Fine... I still love you...” she muttered, pressing her forehead to his as a tear rolled down her bruised cheek.

“I love you too, kitty girl,” Brash confessed, stunned by her declaration. “But you must think I'm an idiot for not acting sooner. Maybe you were right, and we should have attacked with the soldiers... I've learnt there are worse things than death for me. I should have risked it...”

“What's worse than death?” Bright whispered, her amber eyes searing into his soul.

Unable to resist the urge any longer, Brash gently cupped her face as he told her: “Betraying you.”


	8. Good Intentions (Brash/Bright)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brash thought it would be over, that Bright would be safe. Of course it couldn't be that easy; and with soldier's crawling over the hag's lair, it was even more of a mess. It screwed up his plan of getting her to safety... it screwed up his plan of remaining by her side. So Brash kissed her as gently as he could, savouring the last precious moments he had with her. He knew he wasn't a good man by any stretch of the imagination, but he wanted to show Bright that he could be gentle, that he could be sweet... in the futile hope she wouldn't change her mind about their rendezvous.

He thought it would be over. That with Rivera dead, Bright would be safe. But now there was a fucking Demonspawn who'd literally stolen her hear. She'd told him everything; about what Orchid had done to her, about this demon child who wasn't a child, about how he'd rescued her only to betray her... not that Brash had any right to saying anything about that, he supposed. Honestly, he thought both Bright and the witch were crazy for thinking they could reason with the Demonspawn, but after how spectacularly he'd fucked up lately, Brash decided to trust his kitten's judgement. He didn't like her plan, but he had to admit she'd been right about teaming up against Rivera. However, of course things couldn't go smoothly once the witch's apprentice got them back from Inferno in one piece. Soldiers had stormed the lair during their absence, which fucked up his plan of getting Bright to safety... it fucked up his plan of remaining by her side. The only saving grace was that it was Jarlan and Rose who'd found them, since Brash knew he could at least trust them to have his back, no matter how much they bickered; he just hoped Bright really did trust him, considering what he was about to suggest.

“I wasn't counting on them being here... this makes things more complicated. We have to part ways now.”

Bright sucked in a surprised breath, but merely nodded.

“I will go and distract Mace and his army, giving you time to escape,” Brash continued. “But he will search for you once the dust has settled from this whole mess with me and Rivera.”

“Will you be safe?”

Take aback by the simple fact Bright genuinely cared, Brash could only nod as he cautiously reached for her dainty hands; rubbing his thumb over her knuckles, trying to rub away the blood that had dried there. He was still trying to wrap his head around the fact that she cared; couldn't believe she really wanted him after he'd betrayed her, but also couldn't quash the little bubble of hope he felt whenever her amber eyes looked at him gently.

“Do you... want to see me again?” he asked, hoping she wouldn't hear the worry in his voice.

She gave him a thoroughly unimpressed look. “ _Of course_ I want to see you again. I love you.”

“I love you too, sweetheart,” he murmured, gently squeezing her hands. “But we're in a deep mess. Lord Mace may care about my safety, but he won't appreciate learning there's someone more important to me than he is. The Knight's of Scarcewall are not supposed to fall in love, and there's too many of them here now... we need to agree on a time and place to meet.”

“Ravage?” Bright suggested, without hesitation. “It's supposed to have no law or order.”

“It's a fucked up place alright. Not sure how safe it will be, but the shit hole isn't attractive to anyone important, so it might be a good idea,” he agreed, knowing she had a better head on her shoulders than he'd previously given her credit for. “I'd be able to justify the journey if someone spotted me on the road, and then we'd have to run away from there. That's if we're running away together, and not just meeting up occasionally.”

Bright gave him another one of her patent unimpressed looks, that she seemed to reserve just for him, which made Brash chuckle. After the whore who'd messed up his life when he was younger, he'd never expected... or wanted... to find someone he wanted to spend his life with; he'd also never thought being glared at would make him feel loved, but Bright had a habit of making him rethink things.

“Alright, sweetheart. We'll meet in Ravage in seven days... provided we're both still alive,” he stated, not caring if she heard the worry in his voice this time. “Though you'll have to give me my brush back.”

She chuckled softly, shaking her head. “I had a feeling it was yours.”

“I wanted you to have it because I love your hair,” Brash explained, reaching up to twist some gently around his gloved finger. “But I don't want it to get you in trouble”

“You'll just have to let me borrow it again when we meet in Ravage,” Bright smiled. “Or you could brush it for me.”

Brash couldn't help smirking at the thought; there was so much he wanted to do to her... with her... when they were next together. Taking the brush back from her almost felt like a promise, and once it was safely stored in the bottom of his scavenged pack, he pulled Bright into his arms. Despite being a practical man, Brash didn't want to think of this as goodbye. So he kissed her gently, savouring the last precious moments he had with her; he knew he wasn't a good man by any stretch of the imagination, but he wanted Bright to have a sweet memory to hold on to, until they were together again.

“We'll meet again, sweetheart,” he murmured against her lips. “I promise.”


	9. Love Hurts (Bright/Raze)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He snarled and growled and paced. It wasn't supposed to be like this... he had been so sure. His tail swished in agitation. Could he have misjudged her? He wasn't sure, but the doubts began to creep in as he watched her, just standing there haloed by the flames. She said she had come for him, but had she really? Could Bright really care about him? He didn't know, but the tiny part of him that hadn't been beaten down by the life he'd endured desperately hoped it was true.

“Without trust there can be no love.”

Her statement had haunted him ever since he had taken her heart; as had their argument following his theft. Bright wasn't the type to get angry, she preferred to solve problems diplomatically if she could. But oh, he had felt the anger roll off her in waves. There had also been an underlying current of sorrow and betrayal, but he tried to ignore that. He didn't want to analyse why he actually felt guilty about that, especially when he knew there was no other way. Because there was no chance she would _choose_ him, especially if she ever discovered the truth. Unfortunately, despite getting what he wanted, he couldn't stop dwelling on it. Wondering if perhaps there might have been another way, except even as he held her Demonheart in his hand, his plans changed in the blink of his eyes. The gently beating organ slipped from his grasp... he didn't dare hold it tight in case he hurt her... and as it vanished from the room he _knew_ she had somehow made it to his lair. He snatched the pendant from the table, having ripped it from his neck when he almost faltered and answered the last time she tried to contact him, and reforged their mental link.

“You are... here?! Of course. Your dream. You saw the keys...” he fumed, pacing around the room. “You stole the heart from my very grasp, yet you are still here in my lair. What do you think you accomplished? What do I have to do to make you understand?!”

“Understand what?”

“You will never be free from my presence!” he yelled through their link.

“I never wanted you gone, you asshole!” she shouted back. “And I didn't _steal_ my heart... it's my fucking heart! I didn't want it removed in the first place.”

Growling, he cut the link and in a fit of rage, he threw a table across the room that had once been his library. It wouldn't take her long to reach him, his Demonheart and her pet witch. Though he wasn't sure how long he waited, so many mixed up emotions clawing at his mind, as he angrily paced the room. He hadn't prepared for this confrontation, he wasn't ready; even though he was certain of what the outcome would be. She would discover the truth then cast him aside, like he was nothing... meant nothing... to her. He lashed out, smashing a vase off it's plinth, his cloven hooves crunching over the shards as he continued his pacing. What was taking so long? There was nothing _dangerous_ in his lair for her to encounter, nothing that could cause her real harm at any rate. Though just as he was contemplating sending one of those cursed witches to her, the door that he'd sealed with her name burst open, and he barely had time to recover from the glorious sight of seeing his beautiful, resourceful Demonheart in his lair, before her amber eyes widened in the look of horror he'd known they would.

“Are you happy now?” he demanded, stalking closer.

Bright tore her gaze from the cage in the centre of the room, and met his eyes unflinchingly. “No. But I'd rather know the truth than listen to your lies.”

Another growl tore from his throat as he loomed over her. “The truth is it cost me months to accomplish this, months to maintain it. In addition... it's none of your business.”

“I thought you wanted to be allies,” she countered, before he amber eyes inevitably looked passed him to the other Demonspawn. “You need to stop this.”

“How adorable,” he sneered.

“You don't need to do this... whatever _this_ is,” Bright said, her gaze flickering between him and the boy. “He's just a child, Raze.”

He stepped closer, filling her field of vision so she couldn't look him over. “Imagine for an instant that is not my name...”

“I know,” Bright stated, quietly. “I know who you are, Dorius.”

“You believed I was _him_!” he snarled.

She shook her head, sadly. “No, I just didn't say anything. You got so angry whenever we spoke about the Demonspawn those witches tortured, I began to wonder. And I figured if you had the pendant, then Orchid's son must be dead.”

“I suggest you forget about that damnable book, unless you wish to end up like it's authors,” he growled, menacingly.

But instead of rising to his bait, Bright's amber eyes turned gentle. He didn't feel the anger he expected through their link, but sadness and compassion. He couldn't stand it. He couldn't deal with it. It couldn't be real. She couldn't accept it just like that. It had to be a lie... she was just manipulating him, trying to get him to lower his guard so she could stab him in the bad. The most infuriating things was, was that it was working. He could feel his resolve wavering; that's what his fiery Demonheart did to him, make him feel things he couldn't control. He wouldn't allow it. He wouldn't allow himself to fall for her tricks. So he grabbed that damnable cat she was so fond of and threw it at her, using the distraction to overpower Bright's pet witch and flee the room. Of course there was nowhere for him to really run to, but he figured threatening to toss the whore into a pit of flames would give him leverage when Bright inevitably caught up.

“Let her go, Dorius!” Bright yelled, as she stalked across the bridge like an avenging angle; with her blood stained armour and hair matching the dancing flames.

“Do _not_ say that name whilst I'm holding a hostage,” he snarled, flexing his claws around the unconscious witch's throat.

“Killing Ari will not help your cause,” she stated, suspiciously calmly. “It will only make me hate you.”

His tail swished in agitation. “More than you already do? I thought it was all the same.”

That awful compassionate look was back in her amber eyes as she regarded him. “I have _never_ hated you.”

“Yet now you are saying it would all go away if I killed her?” he questioned, his ragged wings twitching with the urge to flee again. “If you truly liked me, would you not forgive me if I cast her into the fire?”

“That's not how it works. I've liked you so far, but I am free to stop if you did something I found unforgivable,” Bright explained, her gaze full of concern when it darted down to the witch he was holding. “I can forgive you for what you did to me, but I could never forgive you for killing someone who didn't deserve it.”

“I am not reassured, but at least your explanation is honest,” he replied, letting the witch drop unceremoniously to the stone floor. “So you have discovered me. _This_ is me... not the son of some do-gooder witch, but a simple peasant girl... who hung herself to try kill the child that was forced upon her. Now you see me for what I am. I am merely a thief, an imposter. I am the weakest of my kind. Orchid's son was the Demonspawn ally meant for you. Will you be the person she hoped you'd be and protect him?”

“Of course I'd like to save him, he's just a child. But I have no loyalty to Orchid after what she forced me to become,” she stated, regarding him with her amber eyes that reflected the flames. “I'm not here for him.”

“What...? Are you here for me? You missed me so much that you had to come here in person?” he scoffed. “And along the way, why not recover your heart which you could never trust me with?”

“I couldn't trust you because you stole it. Just like Orchid, you forced me to become something I didn't want to be,” Bright said, the sense of sorrow and betrayal reaching him through their link once more. “You can't make that sort of decision for someone and expect them to be happy. We're supposed to be allies. I am _not_ your slave.”

His tail swished again in agitation. Could he have misjudged her? Could she really care about him? He wasn't sure, but the doubts began to creep in as he watched her, standing there haloed by the flames, her amber eyes imploring him to believe her. He wanted to. He wanted it to be true. He wanted to believe she wasn't going to cast him aside, but he had to press:

“You must at least wonder about the other one. Would he be an better ally? Surely he'd be better than me, right?”

“You were doing surprisingly fine, considering all the times you tried to convince me to murder people, until your gods-awful plan to hold my heart hostage.” she stated, the corner of her full lips twitching in a brief, barely there smile. “I want to remain your ally, because I think I know why you did it. But please, release the boy. He's just a child.”

So that was her ploy. He knew it. He knew she didn't want him, she was just trying to manipulate his feelings for her to get what she wanted. Snarling viscously, he launch himself at her. Anger and fear and instinct propelling him to act. He intended to simply overpower her, make Bright see his strength, make her look at him in awe. But she fought back, and fought well. She was more skilled with her dagger than he'd realised. They slashed at each other, ducking an weaving. Her Demonheart speed making her a challenging match for him despite her inexperience; he would have been impressed if he wasn't furious. At one put her dagger plunged into his gut, the next he'd wrapped Bright in his arms and tipped her back over the flames; he had no intention of dropping her, but he wanted to make her worry the same way she worried him. He wanted her to fear him the same way he feared her and the power she held over him. But once again she fought back with a resilience he hadn't expected, kicking his legs from beneath him and forcing him to the floor. Refusing to relinquish his hold, he pulled her down with him. She landed straddling his hips, in a way he would appreciate if he wasn't left panting tiredly, looking up into her amber eyes. Waiting. He wasn't at all surprised when she unsheathed that damnable cursed blade, and he tensed his muscles ready to defend himself, when Bright unexpectedly stabbed it into the stone floor beside his head. He blinked up at her, shocked on several levels, before she stunned him further when her lips suddenly crashed into his. For a moment he was frozen... his mind struggling to catch up that what he'd been dreaming of for weeks was finally happening... before he melted into her kiss.

“Alright, idiot. We're done fighting,” she muttered, when she eventually pulled away and leant her forehead against his.

His icy eyes searched her amber gaze. “Does this mean we are... still allies, after everything I've done? Or...?”

“You have to do better,” Bright stated, her small hand gently brushing some of his raven hair out of his face. “I'm not a thing you can possess, and you can't go around threatening the other people in my life, or throwing temper tantrums if I disagree with you.”

“I assure you, my misbehaviour stemmed from being convinced you would despise me when you found out...” he admitted, unable to continue meeting her eyes. “Or that you would simply chose to replace me.”

“Idiot,” she murmured, sounding unexpectedly fond. “No one could replace you.”

“What about your barbarian?” he asked, unable to help himself.

“Despite everything that's happened, I love him,” Bright replied, without hesitation. “But the thing is, I love you too.”

He blinked up at her, stunned. “You... I... I didn't think it was possible.”

“You didn't think anyone could love you?” she asked, her tone far too gentle.

He refused to answer, because after his actions... after knowing how he'd come into the world and the miserable existence he'd endured at the hands of those witches... surely Bright already knew. So he gently untangled himself from her, mindful of his claws, horns and the talons of his wings in case he accidentally hurt her. He intended to limp away, not trusting his wings to carry his weight with how they throbbed, and wishing to prove he could be a decent person by allowing Bright some privacy to wake her pet witch. But she unexpectedly stepped in front of him, her arms wrapping comfortingly around his waist and after a heartbeat's hesitation, he cautiously returned the gesture.

“Raze... release the witches,” she said, her voice muffled against his torso. “They've suffered enough...”

Outraged, he grabbed Bright's shoulders to force her to look at him. “Release them! You have no idea...”

“You've suffered enough too” she whispered, gently cupping his face and effectively derailing him. “You are better than this... I know you are.”

Sighing quietly, he wrapped Bright in his arms as the anger bled out of him. “Do you have any other... requests?”

Bright unexpectedly pressed a tender kiss over his heart, before she regarded him with a gentle smile tugging at her full lips. “Don't be an ass to Brash. This is going to be a lot for him to take in, and I want to talk to him before you start chiming in with your snide comments.”

He rolled his eyes as he held her close. “For you... I'll consider it.”


End file.
